


Stuck in a Bunk

by dramady, edonyx



Series: Smile Pretty for the Devil [4]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunk that's about the size of a coffin. Then a hotel room that's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck in a Bunk

There's not much privacy on a tourbus. Frankly, it _blows._ One little privacy curtain that separates a bunk that's about the size of a coffin. Tommy sleeps with his headphones in, listening Puscifer because it's ultra-chill, and it blocks out the sounds of voices and laughter, TV and music. Adam's below him, Monte directly across, and Tommy's learned to sleep with his back to the curtain. It doesn't filter light out very well, either. Ugh. He ends up with a pillow under his head and another over his head, a feathered sandwich of music.

Adam, for one, has his sleep patterns all thrown off. Being back on the bus reminds him of Idol, actually, and he texts Kris at all kinds of inappropriate hours, stupid little jokes. Sometimes he even catches Kris still awake and they text-talk about being on the road. At least there are fewer people on this bus. And there's Lisa. So, a) it smells better and b) there's a little bit of a better ambiance to the bus. He drinks tea and watches the road go by for a few hours before he feels himself wind down enough to sleep.

When he's finally washed his face and brushed his teeth, he goes toward the coffin-beds and reaches into Tommy's curtain to run his finger down his boyfriend's back, a _hi_ and a _thinking of you_ which isn't hopefully too disruptive before he climbs down below. Yeah, there were jokes about him being on top, but he just isn't this time. For now at least. This isn't the first time he's wanted a fancier bus, one with one of those bedrooms in the back. Maybe next time.

Tommy shivers when he feels Adam's touch, and he twists around just in time to hear Adam pull his own curtain across. Sometimes being affectionate is easy, but sometimes if Adam does something, it makes Tommy feel cold and tight in his guts. It always ends up turning to heat, but he's still getting used to it. After a few minutes of quiet, he pushes his curtain back and slithers out, leaning down to whisper, "Room for me in there?"

Reaching up to touch Tommy's nose, Adam smiles, barely visible in the dark. "Yeah," he answers and Tommy can hear him scooting back against the wall. "Good thing you're teeny."

When Tommy gets in, Adam pulls the covers over both of them, tugging him closer, tucked to his chest. "Good show tonight, hmmm?" He asked, quiet, sleepy-sounding.

"Pocket-sized," Tommy answers, his tone wry and quiet, settling up against Adam. "Great show tonight. You tired?" It sounds like it, even as Tommy pokes one of his knees between Adam's to get comfortable. Not that claustrophobia is comfortable by any measure, but he can ignore it when it's just the two of them. "You wanna sleep? I got my 'pod if you want to listen to it..."

"I should be exhausted, but I keep forgetting how shitty it is to try to sleep on the bus." Adam chuckles into Tommy's hair. "We have the day off after the next show. Can't wait. See? I get excited about beds in hotels. How pathetic am I?" Pocket-sized, heh. Adam slips a hand under Tommy's shirt, bare skin to bare skin. By tilting his head a little, he can kiss Tommy's neck.

"I found out that music and pillows do a good job to knock me out. You make me tired, too." Adam can feel Tommy's answering smile, the raise of his hands into Adam's hair. "Buses are cold, too... except when you've got company." Which is why Tommy's bunched in with Adam. "Can't wait to get into a real bed. We sharing a room?" The space is close and dark, and it's too easy to turn toward Adam to catch his mouth instead. See? He can take initiative! Well, sometimes.

But how is Adam supposed to answer that question when the kisses are sweeter? He does have a chance to nod, though. They're sharing a room. It's something the handlers do now. Lowkey, see. Adam's hands slide lower, under the material of Tommy's sleep pants to cup his ass, pulling him that little bit closer so they're flush against each other.

"Oh." It's just a whisper as Tommy tips his chin down, his own hand moving under Adam's shirt to touch warm skin. The confinement of the bunk makes things feel gradual, the way their kisses soften and deepen, the way his cock hardens against Adam's thigh, even the way that he pushes Adam's shirt up in inches until it has to come off. The idea of anyone hearing what they're doing sends a shudder of anxiety down his back, but at least he can push it away, for now.

Clothes are pushed under the pillow, where they can be found later. Shirts, sleep pants. There is skin to be touched, kisses to be tasted. Adam nearly whacks his head on the top of the coffin-bunk as he rolls over Tommy, chuckling under his breath. _Adam Lambert concussed making out with bassist! FCC bans him!_ But that changes to a hiss when he feels the pressure between his legs as he rocks his hips.

"Watch your head, jeez," Tommy whispers, putting a hand to the back of Adam's head, and that whisper mutates into a sigh as his knees come apart for Adam. His other hand sits at the nape of Adam's neck, feeling where hair terminates to skin, and how both kinds of texture are soft. That he notices these things makes his insides freeze, and he murmurs, "Tell me what to do." So he doesn't think about what this really is, or how much different he feels with Adam. Don't give Tommy a choice.

"Kiss me," Adam answers in a whisper against his mouth. By reaching down he can pull Tommy's leg up his hip. He can curl his hand around, fingering at the tight opening down there. It's stupid to try to fuck here, God, but he wants.

Shit. As if there are condoms anywhere near the bunks. Of course there aren't. Well, there goes that plan. That doesn't stop him from teasing though, fingertip nudging at Tommy. "Don't make a sound."

Tommy's face tenses up for a moment, and there's the ghostly sound of his teeth grinding together. What the fuck is that? Getting all extra-touchy at exactly the same time as being told to be quiet? Unfair, Adam. Unfair times a million. He lets out a slow, shaky breath, hearing the dull thump of his heel against Adam's mattress as he pushes up. Then, _finally_, he kisses Adam, hot and off-center, fingertips stuttering along Adam's jaw.

He's a good boy. Adam kisses him, too, making the angle make more sense, hand shifting to cup and knead Tommy's balls. It's late enough that if he closes his eyes, his head spins a little bit, the whir of the road under them throwing off his equilibrium just that much. Somehow it makes all this sharper, more distinct.

It feels a bit like dreaming, to Tommy. It's dark; his eyes are closed. The air is warm and close; hot kisses, hot breath, body heat. When the only thing he can really hear is the spin of wheels and the sub-audible growl of the engine, it's easy to believe that he could just wake up. Tommy's lips kiss away from Adam's mouth, down to his jaw, back to his ear where he can pant against Adam's hair.

Tommy's leg is hugged tighter to Adam's side as Adam slides his arm closer in order to get a grip on Tommy's cock, stroking it, collecting the precome on the tip and sliding it down the length then. He can murmur in Tommy's ear then, things like how good Tommy feels, how much Adam _wants_ him, how hot his skin is, how gorgeous he is like this, naked and wanting. Gorgeous.

Adam's fingernails always seem to be flawless and unchipped, where Tommy's are scuffed and bitten, but he still drags them down the back of Adam's shoulder, going through his Best Covers Ever list in his head to keep him from saying anything, or even making a sound. Cradle of Filth doing Iron Maiden, Primus doing Metallica, Powerman 5000 doing Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Fuck, it's not working, because Adam's voice is clearer and more cutting than any of those bands right now. "Huh," Tommy breathes against Adam's skin, fingertips leaving imprints that are white for a moment before fading away. "Oh."

"I told you to be quiet. To not make a sound. Those are sounds." And his hand disappears from around Tommy's cock, fingers instead digging into Tommy's hip as he rocks his, getting friction that makes him hiss. "Now you're not going to come til we're in the hotel." Tommy can feel Adam's smile against his ear as Adam shifts, cockhead butting at Tommy's ass. "I should make you suck me off."

"I was just- I was- no way, I was just _breathing._" Tommy peers at Adam in the dark, or tries to, and then he feels that _smile_, and swats Adam's back. "You're not serious. You _started_ it." And wants to continue to tease Tommy with it, between the shock of sensation below and Adam's words, above. "I might be little, but I can't smush myself down that small." Unless there's some bending and a little bit of shuffling around, and then Tommy whispers, "Fine. Get on your back." Since he broke the rule, he might as well keep on talking, right?

Talking almost loud enough that if Monte's still awake, he's hearing more than he'd want to hear, surely. The idea makes Adam smile. Monte knows Adam too well; he's pretty near unruffled by anything Adam can throw at him. With some shifting, he's able to get on his back, only wanging his knee on the roof once - ouch. But then he can look up at Tommy with a grin and run a hand through his hair. "I told you not to make a sound."

"Breathing," Tommy mutters, his repetition grumpy, and shuffles down Adam's body in a series of elbows and knees, and he ends up crunched up so that if he moves too fast, he'll whack his back on the top of the bunk. At least it wasn't his knee, ow. But then he _can't_ make sounds, not properly, not when his lips circle Adam's cock to push down on him, slow and wet. _Shh_, the motion says. But it doesn't make it a demand. Tommy wouldn't do that, it's Adam's bunk, and his rules.

Though he's quiet, Adam arches his back off the bed, head back, eyes closing. Warm and wet. His hand spans Tommy's head, keeping him right there. Right _there_. Again, he can too easily picture himself pushing Tommy's head _down_ until Adam can feel Tommy's nose against his belly. Someday, perhaps. He gusts out a throaty groan.

The answer is something close to a purr, low in Tommy's throat, and he bobs with his eyes closed and tongue pressed to the underside of Adam's cock. Crouched down on his knees and elbows between Adam's thighs, there isn't a whole lot of room for Tommy's cock, and he shifts his weight from side to side before reaching down to press against it. Jeez, he was just _breathing._ That's not making noise.

It gets harder for Adam to stay quiet, too as his pleasure builds. He can feel his body get tight and almost without thinking about it, when Tommy bobs down again, Adam _holds_ him there. Just for a second, just ... just until - "_Fuck_," he breathes out as he comes, cock jerking against the top of Tommy's mouth. "Yeah."

"Gkk-" Tommy smacks the side of Adam's leg, surprised by how it feels, how it tastes, and Adam can feel the way he tenses, trying to pull up and trying to not move, at the same time. Don't gag, he begs himself. Don't. Don't do that because that would _suck._ "Mmh. Mh?" _What do I do?_ Well, no shit, swallow, so Tommy squeezes his eyes shut and tries, tries again, and on the third time, gets it.

Pulling air into his lungs, thrusts up before falling back and that's when his grip of Tommy's head loosens. "Sorry," he whispers, the word coming out a sigh. "Wow." His hand gentles; he pets Tommy's head. "So good."

Tommy jerks back hard enough that he smokes his head on the top of the bunk and what goes up must come down, leaving Tommy's face against Adam's hip, a hand rubbing the back of his head. "Ow, _ow_, motherfucker, _ow._"

Well, at least he's not freaking out over Adam coming in his mouth anymore.

"Ooh, baby." Gently, Adam keeps petting over his head as he tries to get his breathing under control. "Are you okay?" With his other hand, he can urge Tommy along his body to lie next to/on him. "Easy does it. You have an amazing mouth."

Tommy licks against the roof of his mouth before dampening his lips, and for a second, he can taste Adam's come, still. "I think I just about knocked myself out," he mutters, letting his head rest back against the pillow. "That was kind of, uh." Gross. "Different." Really gross. Note to Tommy: drink more dishsoap. Or at least get used to the texture! "It was okay? It was good?"

"It was really good. Don't worry, baby," Adam murmurs, getting himself wrapped back around his boyfriend. "You'll get used to the taste. It grows on you. And tomorrow night, I'll suck you off til you come down my throat, too."

Tomorrow. Really? Ugh. Despite the whole choke-gag-come, Tommy's still hard, and he has to wait until _tomorrow._ Think unsexy thoughts. Making out with Monte? That almost works, except it's Adam that's right here, and it's hard to ignore that. He rubs the bridge of his nose against Adam's jaw before murmuring, "I can't stay in here. I'll suffocate, I swear. I think they make the bunks as miserably fuckin' small as they can."

"Aww," Adam pouts. But he kisses Tommy's forehead. "... okay." Of course, Tommy's right, but that doesn't mean Adam has to like it. "Wait til I get you into a real bed, baby." And he grins as he leans back. There are clothes ... somewhere. Tommy's given a shirt and pants, but whether they're his own or not is anyone's guess.

Tommy stuffs himself into the clothes, and it takes half a second to climb out of Adam's bunk after a breathless kiss to slither back into his own. He didn't look to see if his clothes are actually his, and now that his curtain's closed, he doesn't have to worry. With Adam below, Tommy can push his pants down his hips (they're his, thank god) and curl his hand around his cock. Okay, yeah. _Yeah._ He can be quiet, but he has to shuffle a little bit to get his feet under the covers.

There's a moment of nothing really, then Tommy can hear Adam's elbows, maybe his knees, bang against the wall, a muffled curse and Adam's hand appears inside the curtain of Tommy's bunk. "I have your shirt," he stage whispers. "Trade me."

"-!!" Tommy yanks his hand back, cracking it off the frame of the curtain, and he stifles a curse. "'kay, gimme a sec." Adam's shirt is stuffed into his hand and Tommy waves his hand. "Gimme mine. I gotta go to sleep." But for a second, he touches Adam's fingers, holds them, before letting go. _G'night._ Well, after taking care of one last bit of business.

He gets his own shirt. Adam catches his fingers in the material of his shirt to pull it down. "You better not be jerking off."

There's a pause before Tommy stutters out a negative sound, because he really _wasn't_ jerking off. Not yet, at least. He was just kind of... touching. Touching isn't jerking off, and Adam didn't catch him jerking off. "So, yeah. No. I'm not. You just scared me, that's all." Tommy'll wait until Adam's asleep, then do his thing, plug into his iPod, and go to sleep, too. Tomorrow they have a hotel room, _yes._ Complete with mental fistpump.

"... okay." Adam's shirt disappear and Tommy can hear some rustling as he puts it on, then it's quiet again.

Tommy waits another ten minutes before checking to see how things are doing below his waist. He's still got the taste of Adam in his mouth, he's _sure_ of it, and if he closes his eyes, he can hear Adam's voice, the pant of his breath, and hey, look at that! There's something to work with. After another moment of listening to make sure Adam's asleep, Tommy licks across his palm and wraps his hand around his cock. Then he lets out a thin sigh. Just what he needs to go to sleep, with the promise of more tomorrow night.

"Tommy?" Adam asks, almost in conversational tone when Tommy's about four strokes in. "... I wasn't kidding."

"Are you _psychic?!_" Tommy hisses, thumping his other hand on the mattress. Dammit. "What am I supposed to do, then?" He pulls his hand out of his pants and then sticks them both down over the edge of the bunk so Adam can see them. "See? Not doing anything." Then he flops back onto his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark, wishing that maybe the bunks were big enough for two. Then maybe he wouldn't be doing this, and he and Adam could be doing _something._ Even just sleep.

He doesn't get an answer. But he can probably easily imagine the smile that Adam's wearing as he rolls to his side and finally falls asleep.

The hotel room is on the top floor; the floor that requires a key in the elevator to even get the car to stop there. Fancy. The valet opens the door and leads Adam and Tommy in and nods after dropping the bags and taking the tip Adam offers. Then Adam turns to the bassist with a smile. Just a smile.

It's the fanciest room that Tommy's ever been in, that's for sure. "I gotta have a shower. I feel like the floor of a cab." But Adam's smile stops him, just for a moment, and Tommy quirks a little one of his own. "What? Is it my hair?"

"Your hair looks fine. It just ... kind of feels decadent, doesn't it? This whole room to ourselves for almost twelve hours." Adam's smile grows wider. "Hopefully we can think of something to do."

"Almost twelve hours," Tommy echoes, grinning. A real bed and a real shower and a real TV that he doesn't have to share with anyone but Adam. For almost twelve hours. "I think we could come up with something." He unwinds his scarf (or Adam's scarf, he's not quite sure who it really belongs to, now) from around his neck and hangs it up, along with his coat, and his boots are kicked off near the door. "I'm not gonna want to get back in that bus after."

"I'll try to coax you back on," Adam tells him as he shucks his own outerwear. "There might even be a big tub in there. If there is, we can share?" He pulls his bag onto the bed to unzip it, rifling through his things for his toiletry bag. He has to turn away, see. Tommy's grin - rare as it is, is so bright. So bright.

"I'm gonna go find out." Stripping out of his clothes as he goes into the bathroom, Tommy calls back something about a beer from the barfridge, please? before there's the sound of water running. The tub's definitely big enough for two, and this is something else weird and new. It's intimate in ways that being gagged, blindfolded, or whatever else Adam's done to him, isn't. "I think I could swim in the tub, seriously."

"Awesome." There's a beer from the fridge in one of Adam's hands and other holds a bottle of water. He hands over the beer, then he sets down his water and goes rifling through the hotel-supplied tiny bottles, finding the bubblebath. "Yay." That's poured in and Adam starts to strip, stretching as he does. "It has jets too? God, I can't wait."

A bubblebath. Tommy can't even remember the last time he had one of these, but he cracks his beer open and takes a drink, the cold refreshing in contrast to the heat of the water. Watching Adam in little snaps is all he can manage, even now; seeing skin exposed with casualty is different than clothes stripped off in a need to be naked, and there's that same weird sense of intimacy. He'd agreed to be Adam's boyfriend, and this is part of that. He just... has to get used to it.

When he's naked (though still with heavy make-up and spiked hair), Adam steps into the tub behind Tommy, nudging him a little bit forward so he can slide to sit, gusting out a happy sigh as he pulls Tommy back against his chest. "Oh... _God_ yes. This is the shit."

"Like, don't have sex with the tub or anything," Tommy smirks, swishing his fingers through the water, tipping his head back against Adam's shoulder to drink his beer. "This is kind of swank though, isn't it. I bet this place even has room service. I'd seriously kill for a burger that isn't take out." Later. Now he can loaf in the tub with Adam, feeling just about every inch of his body up the line of Tommy's back. Not even the water can hide the way Tommy's arms break out in gooseflesh.

Letting his hands skate down Tommy's arms, Adam laces their fingers together, wrapping one set of arms around Tommy's waist. He could reach his water then, screwing it open one handed to take a drink. "We can order that if we ever get out of this tub. I ... don't see that happening any time soon."

"I think I could probably go to sleep in here. But then I'd drown and you'd have to find a new bassist." With Adam's arm around him, Tommy slouches lower into the water, letting it come right up to his chin, and he pokes his toes out on the other end of the tub. "I think I'm going to try and sleep for at least four of the almost-twelve hours we've got here. I can't believe we have a real bed."

"You don't think I'd save you? At least give you mouth-to-mouth?" Adam smiles against the curl of Tommy's ear. "Only four hours? God, I'm tempted to vote for eight. This is _nice_, isn't it? Mmmm." He shifts a little bit lower so that Tommy ends up more over him than against him. The tub's deep enough that they're still under water and he can touch the planes of Tommy's body, skating fingers over his ribs, the hollow of his stomach, the jut of his hipbone.

"It's really nice," Tommy answers, automatically turning his head into Adam's touch, feeling prickles of desire that are hotter than the water follow the path of Adam's fingers, and Adam can feel the quick push-pull of his breath as Tommy tries to ignore it. It feels good just to relax, with nothing - _nothing_ \- to do until tomorrow. It feels a little bit like a luxury, a payoff for the hard work they've done so far. And Adam's _touching_ him. Jeez.

That's part of the luxury. No sneakiness, no hurry, nothing but time. It's decadent. Adam's hand spans over the pan of Tommy's belly in a clearly possessive gesture before his palm slides lower, cupping his cock. That's his too. "You didn't ... did you?" The words are breathed directly into Tommy's ear.

It makes Tommy shudder, makes his eyes fall closed, and makes the bottom of his beer bottle chatter against the edge of the tub as he puts it down. "No." It comes out almost sounding like a question, but that's only because he's being fucking _assaulted._ And not in the bad way, oh hell no. But it's a combination of the water and Adam's touches, and- and he _knows_ what talking in Tommy's ear like that does! "No, I just ignored it and went to sleep." And dreamed about Adam, thanks very much.

"Good boy." Adam's hand curls around Tommy's cock, stroking it to full hardness before reaching lower, kneading his balls. "I can't wait to spread you out on that bed and lick you all over." With that, he bites into Tommy's ear.

"Soon?" Tommy asks, unable to help himself, sliding his own hand around Adam's, not to guide or move, but only to feel what he's doing. The bite forces out an undignified noise (okay, it's a squeak, shut up), and his hips jerk up, sending water sloshing. "Wow, sorry. I just- I didn't expect that. So, um. Soon? I'm clean if you are..."

"This tub is so amazing, though. I don't want go." Adam's voice is half-pout, half-amusement. He laces his fingers Tommy's, using both hands to stroke his cock. "You want me to fuck you, baby? I think I wanna fuck you all nice and slow. The kind that makes your head spin." He rocks his hips up, letting Tommy feel his own burgeoning erection.

Tommy clears his throat and nods, chin bobbing into the water, digging his heels down against the porcelain so he doesn't splash water around any more than he absolutely has to, and Adam's voice is still in his ear like his own phone-sex operator, but, live, and _so_ much better. What! He tried, once, and it was _weird._ Because he'd want to joke and the girl would want to be serious, and that was a phone bill he didn't want to explain to his mom. "You do make my head spin," he murmurs, leaning his head onto Adam's shoulder.

Adam's lips press against his ear and Tommy can feel his smile. "Guess we should get out, mm?" Not that Adam is moving. The tub is so _nice!_ "I'm glad you're here with me," he tells him. And he strokes again.

"Me too," Tommy answers, and the funny thing is, he _means_ it. Honestly. If they weren't doing this (being boyfriends, Tommy's brain helpfully provides), then Tommy's sure they'd at least be really good friends, and that's a cool realization. "You say when we get out, okay? You're the one hanging onto my dick." Which is only making him want to twist around in the water so they're chest to chest and Tommy can _kiss_ him instead of feeling those lips pressed right to his ear.

So the hand around his cock disappears. In fact, Adam holds on to the edges of the tub, even. He won't hold Tommy back if Tommy wants to get out. That too will give him the chance to enjoy the view. Even though he's tiny, Tommy has a fantastic body, lithe and lean and muscled in just the right way. Adam nudges at him with his knee. "So go, already."

Shaking bubbles off his skin, Tommy climbs out of the tub, giving himself a cursory scrub with the towel before wrapping it around his waist. Not that _that_ hides anything, really, but it's habit. Then he parks himself on the closed toilet seat to wait for Adam, because that would just be some kind of mean joke if Tommy went and flopped out on the bed and Adam kept at his bath. It'd be a tease.

As it is, Adam isn't rushing his way out of the bathtub. He likes it too much; the water is warm, still, the jets are nice. So he lingers, some, just a little, though he turns to look over at Tommy with a smile. "There's a phone by your knee. Why don't you order your burger?"

"Nah, I'll order it after." There's still the issue of his beer, and he leans over to snag it off the side of the tub. It's warm now, but at least it's not flat, and now that Adam's not all touchy-talky-_evil_, Tommy can chug it back and set it, empty, on the sink. "You want me to order you something, too? After?" There's a tiny pause before Tommy reaches forward and touches Adam's hair, his own expression serious and thoughtful. Steps toward comfort.

When Tommy touches him, Adam's eyes close just a little. Like a cat being petted. "Soup, maybe. Something creamy, like bisque or chowder or something. When it's so cold outside, I seem to be ravenous, you know?" But at least he's kept the weight he gained on the Idol tour off, so far. Fingers crossed.

"I always feel like, way too charged up to eat, you know?" Tommy leans back, knees spread, the warmth of the bathroom and just talking to Adam like they're friends has him relaxed, the towel flat over his hips. It also doesn't help that he's _tired_, and being on a bus does nothing to help with rest. "I'm not a very good cook. I mean, I make a mean canned soup, or like, Mac and Cheese? Tacos, shit like that." He realizes he's looking at Adam's shoulder, counting the freckles there.

"You're about two meals ahead of me. I work a _mean_ microwave." Slipping lower in the water, Adam smiles, his knees poking out. "I think I could live on sushi, though. Which I tell myself is a reason not to learn to cook. Thank God I no longer have to eat my weight in ramen noodles. Ugh. Did that a lot when money was really tight."

"I was living on Ramen noodles like, four months ago." Tommy smiles in answer. "And then this came along and I seriously don't even know what to do with it, most of the time." Yeah, he's done gigs, he's been in bands, _duh._ But never on the same level as this, with the exposure, the kiss at the AMA's (and thinking about it makes Tommy's stomach twist with something that's less anxiety and more desire than it's ever been) and how things have progressed from scary to serious, very fast. "I'm really glad to be in your band. Also, raw fish is the devil." All matter of fact as Tommy gets up to find his comb and do something to his hair.

"You're a man of very serious opinions," Adam tells him with a laugh as he finally climbs out, reaching for a towel to wipe himself down. He doesn't wrap it around himself, though, going to the sink instead to scrub the stage make-up off his face. This is a multi-step process that involves at least two products. "You don't know what to do with what?" He asks, belatedly, as he wipes his face.

Adam's so _natural_ when he's naked; as much as he is with clothes on, and it's kind of awesome to watch. Covering himself up is automatic; he's got sisters, and they've always been the _last_ people he'd ever want to see him naked. "People knowing who I am," Tommy answers, finally. "Having money. Being able to do pretty much whatever I want." Again he reaches out, but this time it's to touch Adam's bare hip, and suddenly, the towel isn't laying so flat anymore, so Tommy sits up straight.

"People have nicknames for you. The fangirls. It's sweet. If only kind of creepy. Like I told you, just ... don't take things too seriously, you know? It's not worth the heartburn." Adam holds out his hand, nodding toward the bedroom. "C'mon. Bathrooms are awesome, but bedrooms are better."

One hand holding the towel, the other holding Adam's, Tommy follows him to the bedroom, where there is a _real bed._ It practically fucking glows in the half-dark like some kind of tempting maiden (or tempting Adam) that makes Tommy want to lie out all over it, greedy. "Lambliff. Better than Ratbert, that's for sure. Do they know that it's... you know. That we're actually-?"

"I don't know. Does anybody know?" Adam climbs onto the bed and starfishes himself out on his back as he looks over at Tommy. "Do you care if they do?"

"I don't know." That's an honest an answer as Tommy can give right now, when he's not ready to say he doesn't care, but won't say he does care. "Seriously, do you have to take up the _whole_ bed? We've both spent the last week in moving coffins, and I'm seriously going to choke a bitch to get some of that mattress." Which means he flops down next to Adam, and hey, even with Adam starfished, Tommy manages to fit. "I think Monte knows. Lisa knows."

He fits even better when Adam rolls to his side, sprawling a leg over Tommy's leg. "Monte probably heard us. How does Lisa know?" Lying on his side, he can trace patterns along Tommy's skin: figure-eights on his chest, circling his nipples, tracing his ribs. Luxurious. It all feels luxurious.

"I told her." Adam's touch makes Tommy relax, go soft, give in to what he wants, even if it's just little patterns. "The day after the first time you took me to the club after the video. She asked why I was walkin' funny." He turns his head so his words are up against Adam's mouth, not quite kisses, but close. Adam can even feel the dart of Tommy's tongue when he dampens his lips. The towel doesn't do anything to hide the hair-trigger reaction to Adam touching him. He wonders if he'll ever get used to it.

"You told her?" Adam's eyes show his surprise. " ... wow." But Tommy's too close not to kiss. So Adam kisses him, hand cupping his cheek again. "What'd she say? What did you say?" Without giving Tommy a chance to answer, Adam rolls over him, blanketing Tommy with his longer body, hand sliding into his hair.

There's nothing but a sigh in there as Tommy's knees come apart, spreading himself open for Adam just as easily as the first time. Now he knows what to expect, how it'll feel, how _good_ it'll be alongside the hot and tight of it. The Glambulge that everyone seems to make a big deal out of is still just a little too much for Tommy to handle all at once, but Adam makes him take it, and he _likes_ it. _She asked and I told her. She said something like 'REALLY, NO SHIT' and bought me a coffee. That was the end of it. She didn't seem surprised._ His lips part against Adam's tongue.

Tommy's tongue is far more interesting than Lisa's seemingly non-reaction. Adam flicks at it with his own, sucks on it, too. "Mmm." His cock is getting hard against Tommy's thigh and Adam rocks his hips just a bit. "You feel good," he whispers, lips sliding to the column of Tommy's neck. "I'm gonna suck you off."

"Oh god," Tommy whispers, but he really means something like 'yes please', chipped fingernails scratching lightly against Adam's scalp. He's been _good._ He waited! He even stopped jerking off when Adam told him to, when it would have been too easy to get into the shower and take care of it there, or waited until Adam was _really_ asleep to do it. No, Tommy waited, and here's his reward.

And the reward comes when Adam has kissed his way down Tommy's body, sucking the occasional mark into his skin, sucking his nipples hard. But then he lingers over Tommy's hips for a moment, slanting a smile up at Tommy, before he bent down, angled Tommy's cock up and sucked him down in one breath, tongue licking along the underside on his way down, sucking hard on his way up.

Tommy's whisper turns into a groan, fingers curling into fists in Adam's hair, knees coming up as his hips shift against the bed. He feels every inch of his cock in Adam's mouth, against his tongue, against the roof of his mouth, and he glances down to see the way Adam's lips move on him. "Adam, Jesus."

There's a joke to be made there. How Adam isn't Jesus. Remember the old joke about the Jews? But it's not the time nor place, right? Plus there's an amazing cock to be sucked so that's what Adam concentrates on, the feel of Tommy's cock on his tongue, the bite of pre-come, cupping Tommy's balls, kneading them as he moves, one finger slipping down to rub at his hole.

It makes Tommy's cock jerk to complete attention in Adam's mouth; first the cup of Adam's hands over his balls, then the touch that makes his nerves sizzle in his body. "Yeah," he whispers, reaching down to hold the base of his cock for Adam. "Oh fuck, you're-" A million things, a million fireworks, compliments Tommy would shower if he knew the words. Then he lets go, giving the show back to Adam to do with it whatever he wants.

It's beautiful. It's like that Mika song (gotta love Mika): "We are _golden_." Adam braces his upper body on his hands and bobs his head and sucks and tastes and when he feels his lover's body get tight, he sucks even harder, wanting - even needing perhaps - to feel Tommy fall apart, just for him.

It makes Tommy think of some song his dad loved when Tommy was a kid - we are stardust, we are golden - Joni Mitchell or something like that, and that's the last clear thought he has before pleasure fires through him, bang-bang-bang like bullets or a sharp snare roll, and he comes on Adam's tongue, feet arched and fingers tight, and he barks out a sound that's in time with the jerk of his orgasm.

When he's milked him dry, Adam raises his head and he's got that 'cat ate the cream' look on his face as he settles on his side, cheek resting on on his hand, other hand covering Tommy's chest. "Better?"

After long moments of panting and trying to figure out what brain cells he needs to speak clearly, Tommy turns his head toward Adam, heavy-eyed and flushed. "Better," he croaks, then clears his throat. "Yeah, better." The way he touches Adam is soft, even, turning toward him to run his hand down Adam's bare side and down the inside of his hip. "Do you want-?"

"I'm okay. Maybe after all that sleep." Adam's stomach growls. "And food." He kisses Tommy, giving him a taste of himself. "That's for being good." Tommy can feel the curve of his smirk in the kiss.

The taste of come still isn't something Tommy likes, or is even used to, because, hi, last night? We all saw how that went, and Tommy's not particularly proud of it, either. "Food, sleep. See what else happens." Sleep would be as close as rolling over at this point, fresh out of the bath, sprawled out all sated and loose on a real bed. With pillows that actually have substance instead of being like shingles. But Adam's mouth occupies him for a moment. "You gonna call, or you want me to?"

"Ugh, I'm so tired, I don't even know." So, it's covers first, pulled up over both of them, right up to their noses. Then Tommy is spooned into Adam's chest. The bed under any other circumstances would probably be _okay_. It _feels_ magnificent. Adam's nose is pressed to the back of Tommy's neck. "We'll call in a minute," he murmurs.

But in a minute, Tommy's asleep, arm shoved under the pillow, shoulders hunched up and back curved to fit the contour of Adam's body, bangs loose down over his eyes, Adam's breath steady on his neck. It's _way_ more decadent than it should be, even if it's in a luxury suite. It's just a bed, but it's caught them both.

Don't tell anyone, but Tommy's got Ramen bowls tucked in his backpack in the livingroom, if they happen to get hungry, later.


End file.
